


Still Hurts

by Dark_and_night



Category: The Boy (2016 Bell)
Genre: Bad Dreams, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, One Shot, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-02-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:40:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dark_and_night/pseuds/Dark_and_night
Summary: Brahms has some scars, physical and mental.
Relationships: Brahms Heelshire/Reader, Brahms Heelshire/You
Kudos: 98





	Still Hurts

You were awoken by the sounds of screaming in the walls. You shot out of bed as fast as you could, your tired body stumbling and trying to keep up with your mind. The screaming quieted down nearly as fast as it started, but you kept pushing forward, finding your way into the wall and into Brahms’ not-so-secret room.

Brahms was sitting straight up in bed, his chest heaving, his skin covered in the layer of sweat. His hands clutched at the bed sheets, the muscles in his arms tense.

“Brahms?” You called quietly, trying not to surprise him.

He turned his head toward you slightly, before he sank back down in his cot.

Walking over and kneeling by his side, you brushed for fingers over his hand, looking for any cue that you were okay to touch him. Brahms didn’t react, though his breathing was steadily slowing down.

“Another nightmare?” You asked, gently wrapping your hand around his. 

Brahms pulled his hand away from yours, turning away from you completely. 

When you moved into the Heelshire home, you had gotten it for incredibly cheap, thanks to the infamous Heelshire ghost. You didn’t care about the stories of things going bump in the night, things getting lost never to be found again. You had needed a fresh start, and you had gotten it for a steal. 

When you found out about Brahms, you were surprisingly calm about it. He seemed like a lost child, and you realized that as long as you didn’t bother him, he wouldn’t bother you. He seemed to only truly be comfortable in the walls, out of sight. The most inconvenience he was to you was being an extra mouth to feed.

The strange man had grown on you. In a way, you felt safer with him in the house. Slowly, the two of you had grown used to each other, but Brahms always kept his distance. You didn’t know anything about his past, how he had ended up in the walls, but you figured it must have been a very sad story.

You sat by Brahms’ side for a while, watching the slight movements of his breathing before standing.

“Well, if you’re okay, I’ll go back to bed.” You finally said.

As you turned to leave, Brahms whispered. “She stabbed me again.”

You turned back to him, eyes wide as you absorbed his words. “What?”

“She stabbed me again. She stabs me every night.” Brahms turned back to face you, his eyes wet and tired behind his mask.

You breathed out, not sure what to say. You knelt back down beside him, frowning. “Is it a recurring bad dream?”

He shook his head, lifting up his shirt to reveal a large, indented scar that you could tell had never been looked at by a doctor. Your hands flew to your mouth, your face twisting in empathy, imaging the pain he must have gone through while that wound had healed. 

Brahms pulled his shirt back down, looking away. “It still hurts. Sometimes.”

“Brahms.” You breathed, your words evading you.

“I guess I was bad. Am bad.” He shrugged slightly, turning away from you again.

Shuddering, you stood, looking around his sad, hidden room. That would explain why he kept his distance. 

“Would you sleep better if we slept together?” You asked before you could think better of it.

Brahms snapped up, suspicion clear in his eyes. He pressed his back against the wall, looking more and more angry with each passing second. He didn’t look like a man. Or a child. He looked like a cornered animal.

“Are you going to stab me like she did?” He growled out.

“No! No. I’m sorry, I just thought, when I had nightmares growing up, I felt safer when I slept with my mom.” You explained, holding up your hands in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

Brahms scooted closer, eyes still full of distrust. His hands shot out, grabbing onto your sides. You yelped in surprise and fear, squeezing your eyes shut, scared that you had pushed him too far.

But, pain never came. His hands slowly moved up and down your sides, down your ass and thighs, then back up to your chest. You opened one of your eyes a sliver, trying to figure out what he was doing.

His eyes were glued on your body, but not in a sexual way. He pulled his hands back, looking satisfied. You realized with increasing sadness that he was frisking you for weapons.

Brahms looked back at your face. The suspicion still in his eyes, but now with a slight glimmer of hope. “You won’t hurt me?”

“I promise I won’t.” You breathed. 

He nodded slowly before standing. “Okay.”

Gently taking his hand, you walked back up to your room, the mysterious man trailing behind you. You didn’t know why you trusted him so easily, or why all you ever wanted to do was get closer to him. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was that you could help heal a broken man, if only for a night.


End file.
